


Chance Encounters

by Jakobslock



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: First Meeting, M/M, Minor description of a bullet wound, domestic arguments with a guy you just met
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24648883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jakobslock/pseuds/Jakobslock
Summary: Or, how one Sir Hammerlock met one Wainwright Jakobs
Relationships: Sir Hammerlock/Wainwright Jakobs
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48





	Chance Encounters

How to describe Eden-6?

Eden-6 is, to put it nicely, a filthy, odd-smelling mudpit. First thoughts of the place had been positive, ‘Oh, a bit of humidity? Swamps? No trouble at all! What a nice change from Pandoran deserts!’ Of course, that was before actually arriving on the moon, and therefore, the joke was on him. Him being none other than one Sir Alistair Hammerlock, who was currently attempting to clean the layers of swamp muck from his mechanical leg and very displeased with the situation. 

Originally, he had come to Eden-6 because of a radio spot. A news story, specifically, broadcasted through the radio Tina had rigged up in the Backburner. Amplified, with some old Hyperion tech, and able to pick up much farther signals than usual. Including one from a town called Pleasant Springs, Eden-6. 

The story, as Hammerlock can recall, detailed a local from the town who had been torn in half by a gigantic, mutated dinosaur who could spit both fire and acid, trampling everything in its path while tormenting the locals. That sounded like paradise, and he knew he had to see it for himself, immediately.  
Immediately took time, unfortunately. They were left in pieces after Hector’s attack, the Raiders scattered and without supplies and protection. He stayed around to help fortify their new camp, secure a new supply line, and teach that odd little bandit fellow how to use a sniper with Mordecai’s assistance. Months passed, but eventually, with a borrowed ship from an ex on Elpis, it was finally time to leave Pandora. Hammerlock had lived here for the better part of fifteen years, wandering the entire planet. He’d seen tyrants rise and fall, lost half of his limbs, seen cherished friends meet their end and gained new ones as well. His almanac of the Pandoran flora and fauna was published (and doing remarkably well in Promethea’s market), his friends were relatively safe, and he felt it was time to begin a new chapter in his life. 

So, to Eden-6 it was! He arrived without any sort of guide, map, or knowledge of the region beyond what he remembers from a tourism advert. An adventurer learns by doing on his own, not listening to another, which is a fancy way of saying Hammerlock lost his "Pocket Guide to the Eden System" in a spaceport bathroom stall.

He's been on the moon for little over a week, by this point. His first two nights were spent in the garage of one of the locals, a charming woman named Prisa who had then kindly informed him that the town of Reliance had an actual hotel, and please get out of her home. Since then, he's been in a little motel. Nothing fancy, but it contained a bed, a door with a lock, and a functional shower with decent water pressure. Far better than most places he called home on Pandora, not that he's especially spent much time here. He leaves every morning at dawn, and spends his day idly wandering around the basin, charting his own map since he was still unable to find one to purchase. It's been a quiet, rather peaceful trip so far. He's made a bit of small talk with the locals, but has not been around enough to really get to know anyone.

However, they did seem to know him rather well. Word spread quick on Eden-6, it would seem. The morning of his 9th day in Reliance, he received a very formal, hand-penned letter from one Montgomery Jakobs himself, inviting Hammerlock to the family lodge for a hunting trip. "A proper introduction to our fair home, from my family to yours," it had read. Hammerlock knew enough about corporate niceties to know that the true intention of the invitation was a business merger between the Jakobs and the Hammerlock families. Apparently his estrangement was unknown in the grand scheme of things. But, that doesn't mean he can't take advantage of both free lodging and a guide around the region from the head of Jakobs himself. Maybe he can pilfer a map from the man as well.

The idea of attending a hunting expedition without actually hunting any of the moon's creatures was slightly concerning, however. He has a reputation to maintain. He set out immediately the next morning, determined to find and kill as large of a variety of local fauna as he was physically capable of. It would absolutely not do for him, a seasoned, expert hunter, to show up and be unable to properly show off. Not that he doubts his own skill, of course, but in a matter of taking a beast down in one shot or three, you'd damn well better believe he'll do it in one.

Grogs are the obvious choice. A more exciting trophy than a jabber, and the local menaces of Eden-6. Saurians are what he came here to kill in the first place, though hopefully a larger one. He would love to have a tyrant head on the wall of his study, but for now the little ones are a good start. Saurians are a fascinating lifeform, ones that actually change from amphibian to reptilian as they grow. As such, they are found in the lower parts of the basins, making their nests in swamps and grottos. It is one of these nests that Hammerlock is after.

It was a couple of hours of wandering the shorelines before he found any viable tracks, the mud quickly obscuring them. It made work difficult and rather annoying, but he's hunted in worse conditions. Eventually he had found some decent ones, nearly twice the length of his hand, and had begun the hunt.  
The tracks, thankfully on stable ground, lead far back into the groves of trees until Hammerlock was surrounded by woods on every side. That, with the help of indicators like crushed foliage or scratches in tree bark led him to his prize quickly. A ravager, likely scavenging for it's nest. When Hammerlock finds it, it's approximately 60 feet ahead snuffling through a clearing. He crouches down low, drawing his rifle.

He doesn't shoot, instead just watching it through the scope. Observation is the key, in this field of work. The creatures are heavily armored, something he knew, with massive jaws of menacing looking teeth. Their armor plating seems most focused around the head, tail, and joints specifically, though the creature has plating visible everywhere. While it's underbelly is still armored, the plates are smaller and more spread out. Saurians seem to either count on ramming things headfirst or just their sheer size to win a fight. 

Hammerlock decides the best choice is to either shoot through the throat or the creature's open maw. A shot placed right should avoid the plating and sever the spine, dropping it in one shot. Decision made, Hammerlock starts to slowly creep forward to get in range. He climbs over a downed tree, perfectly silent. He then immediately falls into an unseen mudpit with a loud crash, sinking down up to his thighs. Son of a-

When he finally gets himself unstuck and back up on the log, the ravager has gone. Typical. So we find Hammerlock in his current predicament, pissed off, clothes utterly ruined, and metal leg nearly clogged up to nonfunction by the thick muck. He huffs, using his knife to scrape out the mud from the joints. Thank god only his leg got stuck. He'll be able to fix it back at the motel, it's just a matter of getting there. Hammerlock grabs his canteen, sparingly pouring water over the knee joint in an attempt to clean it enough for movement. Well, that's likely as good as it's getting. Hammerlock sticks the thing back on, grumbling to himself as he retrieves his poor, filthy rifle and starts his way back to Reliance. It's slow, exhausting going with one and a half working legs. By the time he gets back the sun has long since set and if anyone speaks to him or even looks his direction he might just shoot them in the face. 

Finally, finally, he gets back to his room. Blissfully, the key doesn't jam, and Hammerlock gets in and collapses on the bed as soon as the door shuts behind him. He yanks his leg off with a groan, dropping it and his rifle in an indiscriminate pile on the floor. Today had gone the exact opposite of how it should have, so he'd just better hope his observations prove true in front of Montgomery. Reputation, it's important. Everything will go fine, he'll rest a minute, have a bath, he'll clean up his gun and his leg, grab some dinner and get a good night's rest before meeting the man tomorrow afternoon.

His echo beeps, and the automated voice announces that Montgomery has a meeting to attend tomorrow evening and would Hammerlock kindly meet them at Knotty Peak for an early brunch. Son of a-.

Hammerlock groans, grumbling nonsensical swears to himself as he hauls himself upright to find his rifle kit. Morning, what a nightmare. He'd better get busy.  
As it turns out, he ends up having to dismantle part of his leg and replace a piece of wiring that took water damage from the muck. That takes a couple hours, as does cleaning his rifle. He finally manages to get it done, slamming down a protein shake in the shower before passing out for about five hours before his alarm wakes him so he can set off for the Knotty Peak Lodge. 

He was told it was a trek, but really the hike only only took him about an hour and a half. He could have driven, but the catch-a-ride was down and he didn't feel much like calling Ellie at 7 am. She's less of a morning person than he is, and that's saying something. The Lodge as it turns out is a charming bed and breakfast on top of a high peak, surrounded by trees and overlooking the basin, far out in every direction. Hammerlock loves the place immediately, and after a conversation with the receptionist to see about staying here rather than Reliance, he makes his way outside to wait and wander until Montgomery shows. He should be around 10, so Alistair has some time. He strolls off, down the hill a bit. From up here, Eden-6 is nothing short of beautiful. It's so green and lush, so unlike the many places he's called home. 

He has a sudden desire to see it better without the shrub getting in the way. Hammerlock looks around until he finds a decent enough tree to climb up in. With a bit of effort, he gets himself about 15 feet up, settling into a fork in the branches. From here he can see down to the basin floor, and out to the massive stratovolcano in the distance. It's stunning, serene, and Hammerlock finds growing fondness for the moon blooming in his chest. The soft sound of the breeze through the massive leaves is soothing, and it's not quite hot enough to be uncomfortable yet, just enough to make one feel just a bit lazy. 

Hammerlock takes his gun off his back, so he can lean again the tree without it digging into his spine. He holds it in his lap, finger instinctually lying on the trigger. It's so peaceful here, so calming. Montgomery will be a while, surely there's time for a little rest, he barely slept after all. Hammerlock makes himself comfortable, pulls his hat down over his eyes and dozes off. He's a light sleeper, so he'll awaken to either his alarm or anyone walking nearby, within. Just a quick rest...

There'sSomethingBehindYouWAKEUP

"Hey, what-"

Hammerlock jerks awake with a start, body running on instinct. There's a sound behind him which means something got the drop on him-

A gunshot rings out before Hammerlock really processes anything, firing blindly in half conscious panic. He shoots right as he simultaneously falls out of the tree, landing square on his back with a thud. Ow.

The impact shakes him awake fully. Something was there, and his shot hit that something, he knows it did. He doesn't move a moment, wondering if he killed it.

"Son of a BITCH."

Wait.

That's not a wild animal.

Hammerlock blinks, sitting up. Right... He's at the Lodge. He must have fallen asleep harder than he'd wanted. He gets to his feet, looking for what woke him. 

He doesn't have to look far, about ten feet away from the base of the tree is a man. A very, very angry looking man, with wild hair, clutching his bleeding shoulder with a glare that could kill. Oh dear.

"Oh- I am so-

"What in the hell is wrong with you?!" the man exclaims, "The hell kinda person do you think you are just shootin' blindly at strangers?" Hammerlock's apology dies in his throat, wounded pride taking first.

"It is not as though shooting you was my goal! You're the one who snuck up on a man with a gun!" he shouts right back. The man rolls his eyes, wincing as he rolls his shoulder.

"Ow, shit. I didn't sneak up on you, you damned idiot! I was down here shoutin' away, it ain't my fault you were out harder than a drunkard and didn't hear me. Either way, you ain't supposed to shoot first!"

Hammerlock bristles, glaring at the man. How dare he assume it was purposeful? A gentleman doesn't shoot at random. Who does this man think he is, marching up here in his fancy outfit and expensive jewelry flashing on his fingers? Asshole.

"It is instinctual to fire first when something sneaks up on a hunter, and I am a damn good hunter. Something I am sure the likes of yourself has no experience with."

"Ohh, that's rich. If you're such a good hunter why in the hell'd you fire off like that? Hunter my ass-"

"I will have you know that I am excellent at it! Hammerlock is a renowned name in hunter's clubs throughout the galaxy!" Alistair shouts, cutting the man off. 

His damaged pride does the talking, or rather the yelling. "I know more than you can possibly imagine, you snob. Particularly when it comes to approaching someone unaware when they have a damn weapon!"

The man doesn't shout back immediately, the anger in his face momentarily replaced by recognition.

"You're- Oh you've gotta be joking. You're Mr. Hammerlock?"

"It's Sir Hammerlock, thank you kindly."

"Oh, oh I do apologize! Oh, excuse my manners for not using correct articles with the jackass who just put lead in my shoulder!"

"It is just a formality I would prefer you use-"

"Nah, nope! You ain't gonna stand there and tell me what's proper after that! Hammerlock my ass, can't believe my daddy actually thinks you're someone competent."

Wait a second.

Oh, god damn it. That'll explain the rings and the fancy dress and the attitude. Of course he's a Jakobs, and of course he's Montgomery's son. Corporate shills are all the same, always have been. Hammerlock scowls. 

"I would have thought the son of Montgomery Jakobs would have come common sense or courtesy about him, but it appears I have been mistaken. Are you quite sure you're a Jakobs?"

It's a low blow, but he's pissed off, both at the man and the entire situation. It appears the blow hits though, the man's eyes widening in shock and anger.

"Why you absolutely son of a-" he growls, throwing his arm up to make some sort of obscene gesture. However he uses the arm that's still currently bleeding, and cuts himself off with a pained noise. He seems to deflate a little, clutching his shoulder with a hiss and a wince. "God damn, you really got me good." 

Hammerlock narrows his eyes, feeling the odd sensation of anger flowing out of him at the sight of the man's pain. Arrogant bastard but, well, he is bleeding. 

And he did get shot. And he is Montgomery's son, apparently. Hammerlock swears under his breath, staring at the sky with a heavy sigh. Alright, fine. 

"Just get over here and sit down, will you? I can get the bullet out."

"What, you as good of a doctor as your are a hunter?"

Hammerlock bristles, but swallows down his annoyed outburst and walks to a nearby log. He ignores the man a moment while he gets out his first aid kit. He always travels with a very well kitted one of course, one meant for field surgeries, ever since the unfortunate incident that resulted in the loss of his limbs. 

Hammerlock points at the log and glares at the man, who's been watching him in confused annoyance.

"Sit. Now." 

The man glares at him a moment before very exaggeratedly rolling his eyes and stomping over like a child, sitting down on the log with a huff.

"You damn well better know what you're doing, Hammerlock," he grumbles, taking his jacket off.

Hammerlock mentally screams, biting his tongue as he sits down next to him, getting a pair of forceps from his kit.

"I have removed bullets from myself on numerous occasions, a child could do it, Jakobs, honestly. Are you always this cranky when you've been shot?"

The man gives him a Look, unbuttoning his ridiculous striped shirt and shoving it off his wounded shoulder. It's not even that bad of a shot, it likely just barely lodged in the bone. Really, it's not worth the amount of drama the man is providing, all it takes it yanking out the bullet and an anshin hypo.

"It's Wainwright. I ain't as much of a stickler for formality as your pompous ass seems to be."

"Hmph," is how Hammerlock responds, not wanting to dignify that comment with an answer. He starts the process of fixing the injury, which is really no more than yanking the bullet out with some forceps while the man- Wainwright- yells obscenities at him. Hammerlock ignores him, focusing on just fixing it up. The bullet pops out with a slightly disgusting sound, Wainwright winces and Hammerlock does not react at all. Now it's just a matter of cleaning and patching.

"You wouldn't happen to have an anshin medic hypo, would you?" He asks

"Why in the hell would I jus' have one a those?"

"It is merely a question, otherwise you'll be stuck with a bandage until one is available."

"Well I ain't got one. Probably one back home."

"Then when you return home, stab yourself in the arm with it. I assume you at least know how to do that? Or perhaps a Butler would?"

He can't help being a bit of an asshole, even though he shouldn't. It's almost kind of fun to rile him up. Hammerlock grabs a roll of bandages, wrapping them tight around his shoulder atop a gauze pad. Wainwright just scoffs.

"You know I ain't incompetent right? I've been jabbing myself with needles twice a month for thirty years, I'm pretty damn experienced with it- Ow!"

Hammerlock yanks the bandages a bit tighter than he should, maybe. 

"Wonderful! Then it will be no issue. I am glad to see that even someone of your wealth and status can perform basic health care procedures without the assistance of a maid."

"You're really somethin', aren't you? Last I heard your family was up there on the ladder as well, monetarily speakin'," he laughs, but it's condescending and shallow, "Pretty sure that's the only reason my Pa's even bothering with you, you know," Wainwright grumbles, kicking at the ground. He's getting dirt all over his nice little boots. 

Hammerlock doesn't manage to hold back his eye roll. Rich folk are all the same, he should know, given his family. Obnoxious, all of them, that's why he doesn't bother with then anymore. He's starting to second guess if the free lodging and the hunting trip is worth this annoyance, if Montgomery is anything like his son.

He's about to comment that he doesn't have anything to do his family or his wealth, thank you very much, but a new voice cuts him off before he starts.

"What in the god damn is this??" it shouts. Wainwright tenses immediately, before Alistair can even identify who it is. When he turns he catches sight of a tall, stocky man stomping towards them. His hair is shock white, as is his beard and impressive mustache. He has a monocle, rings on his fingers with some rather large jewels, spotless patent leather shoes, and bright gold embossed buttons on his perfectly pressed brocade suit. Everything about him oozes wealth in excess.

This must be Montgomery. Hammerlock hates him immediately. 

"Hi, Pa-" Wainwright starts, his voice different now. He's quieter. Interesting. 

"Don't you 'hi' me boy, what the hell is going on?" Montgomery shouts again, pointing his finger right in Wainwright's face. Hammerlock drops his hands from Wainwright's shoulder, watching intently. 

"Ain't nothin' for you to get all puffed up over, you look like a damned wrinkled tomato that's been sittin' in the sun too long" Wainwright bites back. 

Hammerlock has to fight back a grin. That just seems to annoy Montgomery more, however. This could get bad.

"Why you-" 

"A mishap of my own doing, I am afraid," Hammerlock quickly interrupts, getting to his feet. He brushes his hands off on his trousers, holding one out to Montgomery. "Sir Hammerlock, at your service. I apologize for the mess."

It works, at least momentarily. Montgomery seems stunned, staring blankly before he takes Hammerlock's hand in a hilariously weak handshake. 

"You, you're Hammerlock? What's going on here, if I may?"

His sudden politeness is laughable. Businessmen. Hammerlock can play that game as well.

"Your damn business partner shot me," Wainwright butts in, glaring at Hammerlock. Montgomery drops his hand, and Hammerlock mentally kisses this whole deal goodbye. So much for the complimentary brunch, damn. However, Montgomery's anger doesn't turn out directed at him. Instead he turns to his son, his look disgusted. 

That's a development. One Hammerlock does not like one bit.

"What on Eden did you do, boy?" he asks, tone nothing but accusatory.

"Me? I'm the one who got shot!" Wainwright shouts right back, his eyes widening in shock. "You should be askin'-"

"How the hell are you gonna sit there and tell me it's his fault? The man's an expert, Wainwright, he's not gonna just shoot a man out of nowhere! So what did you do?"

Before Wainwright can try and defend himself Montgomery turns back to Hammerlock, his anger replaced with a placid smile.

"I am so sorry, Sir. My boy's a bit touched in the head you see, he ain't got the best sense when it comes to certain situations, I apologize on behalf of us both for disturbing you with such a thing as this."

The acidic niceties dripping off Montgomery's tongue make Hammerlock's stomach turn. There's not a doubt in his mind that this man is not someone to make friends with. He'd stab you in the back if it meant he could make money off your corpse. 

If that wasn't enough, a quick glance at Wainwright solidifies his opinion. His shoulders are slumped, and he's staring at the ground and the dirt on his boots. Not at all the proud, obnoxious man he was arguing with a minute ago.

Wainwright and Montgomery remind Hammerlock of him and his mother. That's all he needs to know.

"Actually, Jakobs, the fault is none other than my own," Hammerlock says, a hard edge to his voice. "Your son caught me unawares and I accidentally fired a shot blindly."

Montgomery has that stupid surprised look on his face, but it's almost matched by Wainwright, who looks up in disbelief. Hammerlock tilts his head a bit. "I patched the wound, of course, it's the least I can do for shooting a stranger, much less one of the Jakobs family. I do hope my own oversight will not cause much trouble, and I of course will pay for a less bloodied shirt."

He claps a hand onto Montgomery's shoulder, more forceful than necessary. Hammerlock smiles, completely ingenuine. "Jakobs is supposed to be a family corporation, after all, is it not?"

"It- It is, it is! We are!" Montgomery stutters. Hammerlock ignores him, instead offering a hand to Wainwright. Wainwright looks at him, his expression perfectly confused. He takes the hand, and Hammerlock pulls him to his feet with a smile, one without bite.

"I do apologize again, Mr. Jakobs. Please allow me to buy you a drink this evening in an attempt to make up for it."

Wainwright looks almost relieved, not letting go of Hammerlock's hand at first, clasping it in his with a strong handshake. 

"I'll take you up on that one. Though I should probably head home and change first. Let's say the Busted Bucket in Reliance, 5 tonight?"

"You have a deal, I will see you this evening!"

Wainwright nods, dropping Hammerlock's hand with a smile. He looks like he's making to leave.

"But-" Montgomery finally speaks up. He makes to grab Wainwright's jacket or something of the sort. None of that, Hammerlock thinks, throwing an arm over Montgomery's shoulders and forcefully leading him away towards the Lodge.

"Now then, Montgomery, you and I have business to discuss! Tell me, what would you say are your planet's best natural resources?"

"Oh- Well, there's many! Eden-6 is a worthwhile investment, starting with our lumber-"

Hammerlock tunes him out immediately. He looks over his shoulder, just briefly. Wainwright still stands there, watching them. The two make eye contact and share a nod. They'll talk later.

Later, as it turns out, comes far too slowly. Montgomery is insufferable and absolutely incapable of shutting the hell up. Brunch lasts for nearly three hours, and the only worthwhile part of it are the scones and the tea sandwiches. Business talk is always so dreadful, even when it's not actual business. Montgomery is excellent at bragging, it turns out, and by the end of three hours Hammerlock has learned most of the Jakobs company's history, the most profitable natural resources on Eden-6, and how many famous people Montgomery himself has met, including Typhon DeLeon. 

Hammerlock does not give a damn, but thankfully Montgomery's inability to shut up about himself makes it easier to pretend like he still has a connection to his own family. The Hammerlocks are known for...Land development, doubtless Montgomery wishes to partner with them to expand Jakobs across more of the moon. Tough luck on that one, as he's sure Montgomery will find out eventually.

Hammerlock notices that Montgomery fails to mention his son once, nor any other family. He's met men like him before, ones who care for nothing beyond their own gain. They're always the same. 

Finally, finally, the man shuts up long enough for Alistair to direct the conversation back to the hunting trip Montgomery had initially bribed him with. They manage to set a time, two days from now. With a small box of extra scones in hand and a room rental set up for tomorrow, Hammerlock finally bids Montgomery Jakobs goodbye, speed walking away before the man can begin speaking again. Dreadful, his speaking is. 

Hammerlock makes it halfway down the small peak before he's far enough away to stare up at the sky, cover his face with his hands and scream for just a moment. A deep breath to compose himself and he's off, sparing a glance at his pocket watch with a curse. It's nearly 4, shit. Now that the greedy Jakobs is dealt with he has to go deal with the snobby one.

He runs late for that one, finally arriving at Wainwright's chosen bar fifteen minutes after five. Hammerlock bursts through the door, having rushed over. It's surprisingly crowded, and a few of the patrons give him an odd look at the disturbance. He clears his throat, straightening up and tipping his hat awkwardly. A glance around finds Wainwright at a table in the corner, waving at him. He heads over quickly, head down as he takes a seat. 

"I apologize for my tardiness, I had a bit of trouble finding the place," he lies. What really happened is that he was running around trying to find his Special Occasion Hat, which is the exact same as his typical hat but with a feather stolen from Talon's nest rather than one from a tourist shop on Junpai-3. "No trouble finding you though, what with your 'stuck my finger in an electrical socket' look."

Wainwright, shockingly, doesn't immediately throw the sass back. He laughs, in fact, shaking his head. He looks much more dressed down, only wearing a simple button down and slacks, no tie or flashy jewelry. Though he does still have his fancy little boots. There's a hint of a fresh bandage under his collar. 

"It's my signature look, thank you kindly. Woulda heard you comin' from a mile away with all that squeaking you're doin'." 

Hammerlock winces slightly, flexing his leg. It is creaking a little bit. 

"You can blame your planet for that, all these damned swamps are causing a man to rust."

Wainwright laughs again, and Hammerlock finds himself rather enjoying the sound of it when it isn't vaguely condescending.

"Sorry bout that. Eden-6 is pretty swampy. You should see monsoon season, that's a real fun time."

"Oh, I can imagine. Though your home seems to be quite high elevation, so I would assume you can avoid the worst of it."

"For the most part, we do. Roof always springs a leak though."

A waiter comes by then, asks Wainwright if he wants the usual. He declines, saying he needs to be sober a while longer and orders a couple pints instead. 

"So," Wainwright starts, giving Hammerlock a Look, "You met with my father."

"May I speak plainly?" Hammerlock asks, not giving Wainwright a second to speak further.

"Don't see why not."

"Your father may be one of the most insufferable men I have ever known."

Wainwright stares at him a second before clapping a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter. Hammerlock finds himself grinning as well,  
delighted that the man is unbothered by unkind words to his father. He had a hunch, and it glad to see it correct. 

"Lemme guess," Wainwright laughs, "He talked about his daddy for twenty minutes."

"Sir, I know your entire family lineage back 340 years. It took well over an hour."

"Hell's bells, he's really goin' hard with you then. Whatever your family does must be worth it."

Their waiter comes by and drops off their drinks, and the two men raise theirs in cheers. It seems that the earlier tension has seemingly dissolved, thankfully.  
Wainwright may be a rich snob, but he's proving to be a decent drinking companion outside of work. 

"What is it your family does, exactly?" Wainwright asks, ungracefully wiping the beer foam off his mustache. Ah, Edenians. 

"The polite answer is land develop for various large, company based clientele," Hammerlock shrugs. "The actual answer is that they are exterminators. When someone needs something cleared for, oh let's say a new factory or a mining operation, you send them in. They have a small army in their control who will destroy anything in their path, be it plants, native fauna, or local clans of indigenous peoples. Though the Hammerlocks have been known to plow down cities as well, if the job requires."

He takes a sip of his drink, the bitter taste in his mouth not just from the alcohol. He always feels vaguely nauseous speaking of his family's business, if one can even call it that.

He notices that Wainwright's gotten quiet, and a glance across the table shows the man giving him an odd look, a trace of suspicion on his face. Hammerlock instantly gets defensive, his posture stiffening. People always react to his family badly, as if he himself condones any of their actions.

"Is there a problem?" he asks, hostility creeping into his voice. Wainwright shakes his head.

"No, nah. Jus' a little curious about somethin', why you said "they."

"Pardon?"

"You said they. Not we. Ain't typical when ones talkin' about their family business involvements."

Hammerlock pauses. Damn, he didn't even realize he was doing that. Clever. 

"Well, I do not have any involvements with said family business," he says, his voice guarded. Wainwright might run off and tell his dad Hammerlock's full of shit and then there goes the hunting trip. All the man wants is to kill a few saurians and enjoy some complimentary brunch, dammit.

Wainwright, to his credit, just looks confused. 

"The hell you mean by that? You're a Hammerlock, ain't you? Therefore you're involved. You sayin' you don't see the business side of things?"  
Hammerlock's backed himself into a corner, so he decides to just go for it. He'll pay for his own scones, god forbid. 

"What I mean is that I have not had any contact with my family or their business affairs in nearly thirty years, with the exception of three echo calls from my sister I declined to answer. Hammerlock may be my name, but that is the extent of my involvement with the family."

Across the table, Wainwright's confusion grows. Hammerlock says nothing, taking a sip of his drink with forced casualness.

"That don't make a lick a' sense," Wainwright says, leaning on his arms on the table and eyeing Hammerlock. One of his eyes has a slightly more dilated pupil than the other, odd. "How can you have nothing to do with them, an' why? Prestigious family like that ain't one you can't just walk away from."

"Oh, but you can. And I did, approximately three weeks before my twenty first birthday. There was an unfortunate encounter with my sister, a duel to the death scheduled, you know how it goes. I came to the realization that I wanted nothing to do with them as people nor their legacy. As a Hammerlock, my fate was written from birth. I rejected that, stole a good amount of money and valuables, got a ship, and left. I have never once looked back."

Hammerlock ends his little story with a shrug, feeling a sense of both disgust and pride at the memories. His right eye twitches slightly, the three decades old scar over it suddenly itching. Wainwright looks shocked, mouth slightly agape.

"But... It's your family."

"Well I certainly never asked to be a Hammerlock, now did I? Family and blood should not be a shackle."

Wainwright goes quiet at that, looking confused, like he doesn't know what to say. Hammerlock sips his drink, acting casual still. Finally, after looking like he's about to start a sentence several times, Wainwright speaks up.

"So, if you don't mind me askin', what is it that you do, then? Why are you on Eden-6 if you ain't here for business on behalf of Hammerlock."

"I came for the saurians."

"You're joking."

"Not in the slightest!" Hammerlock exclaims, feigning offense. "I am a wildlife researcher, as well as a big game hunter. Though I do publish the occasional almanac or guide book to local flora and fauna as well. I heard a thrilling story about a massive saurian over echo and decided I had to see one for myself. That is why I am here. Your father contacting me is merely coincidence."

"... You're really somethin', ain't you?" Wainwright laughs in disbelief. Hammerlock grins.

"I certainly try to be. Things would be rather boring otherwise, don't you think?"

"So if you ain't with your family business, why'd you tell my old man you are? He's gonna find out there ain't no business deal waitin' for him."  
Hammerlock shrugs, his smile turning coy.

"Well for the hunting expedition of course. As well as the complimentary brunches, I do love those little scones at the lodge."

Wainwright stares at him for a solid ten seconds before he cracks up laughing. The sound is loud, a bit gravelly, it makes something odd stir in Hammerlock's stomach. Soon he finds himself laughing as well, unable to resist getting swept up in it. Some of the patrons turn to glare at them but neither of the men even notice.

Eventually the two of them settle down, and the conversation turns more to getting to know each other. Hammerlock regales Wainwright with the tale of how he lost his limbs, and Wainwright in turn tells him about the time he got kidnapped when he was 15. They discuss their favorite authors, finding they have a mutual love for poetry. They talk about music, and Wainwright laughs when Hammerlock yells at him for not listening to much Digby Vermouth. They order another round, and then another, and another after that, throwing in some little snacks as well.

Hammerlock finds that he had rather misjudged Wainwright. Sure, his earlier reaction to being shot was a bit overblown, and absolutely not Hammerlock's fault, but maybe he just gets cranky when he's been shot. Can't fault the man for that, can he? As it turns out, Wainwright is a delightful conversationalist, with a sharp wit and a brilliant sense of humor. A bit rude at times, but in a way that's honestly charming. Hammerlock gets completely lost in the conversation, and though he'd never admit to it he's entranced by the man across from him. He can't remember the last time he was around someone this easy to talk to, or this enjoyable to talk to. Moxxi, perhaps? Though even with her, and he counts her as his dearest friend, things were never so... Comfortable so quickly. 

Hammerlock feels like he's known Wainwright his entire life, and not just a mere half a day. It scarcely feels like minutes have passed by the time Wainwright glances at his echo.

"Hell in a handbasket, it's damn near one in the morning," he exclaims, glancing at Hammerlock apologetically, "Time just a' just slipped me by."

"Ah, it is no trouble," Hammerlock replies, waving his hand absently. "I am no stranger to late nights, and it is well worth it for the conversation. Though the  
bartender is starting to look a little irritable."

Wainwright chuckles, reaching into his pocket to presumably grab his wallet. "Guess we better get out of his hair."

Hammerlock reaches across the table before Wainwright can move, throwing a few large bills down that more than cover their tab.

"Hey-" Wainwright starts.

"Oh shut it, consider this my apology for shooting you in the shoulder." 

"Ha, fair 'nuff. You stayin' around here?" 

They make for the door, falling in step with each other like they've known each other for years. 

"Indeed, not far away at the motel here."

"Wonderful, allow me to walk you back, if I may."

"Who would have guessed you were such a gentleman?" Hammerlock says with a smirk. Wainwright laughs, elbowing him.

"An' who would have thought you would turn out to be so tolerable?"

They chat more on the way back to the motel, and Hammerlock finds himself mourning the loss of the company as they approach the building. 

"Hey, I forgot to ask. Since you ain't got a good relationship with Hammerlock, you got something else I can call you?" Wainwright asks, coming to a stop outside Hammerlock's door.

"Oh, of course. It's Alistair, Alistair Ulysses Hammerlock."

Wainwright chuckles softly, holding out his hand.

"Well, then it's a pleasure to meet you, Alistair. Maybe when your business with my father's concluded, you could stick around a while. I'll show you around."

Alistair smiles brightly, shaking Wainwright's hand. 

"You know, I very well think I shall."


End file.
